Blood Moon (20 page)

“I know. God forgive me for what I’ve done to you.”

“Forgive yourself, if you can, and leave God out of this,” she hissed.

Jacob nodded. “I’ll take you into Yorktown. There’s a boarding house there – you cannot travel back tonight.”

“I’ll do what I bloody well please!” she said haughtily.

Jacob wanted to hold her. Every minute with her dampened his resolve. His chest felt as if it were going to explode. His sorrow was overwhelming. “Go back to the fort tomorrow,” he said reluctantly. “Isaac can give you so much more than I. He’s a good man.”

“I’ll thank you to stop telling me what to do or where to go. I am no longer your responsibility. If you had half a brain, you would have shut up five minutes ago, before trying to push me into the arms of another man like I was fast, flitting about from man to man, like a bloody honey bee!” She looked at him once more. Feeling nauseated, she then forced herself to stagger to the door. She opened it, trying to catch her breath.

“Goodbye, Jacob.” She whispered, and then left without a backwards glance.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Jacob held onto the desk for support, panting and unashamed of the tears that dripped from his eyes. He had just watched his life walk away. He was finished. Every problem that faced him now would be confronted without Mercy, his guiding light. The war, Elizabeth’s situation, his plantation, and even his damn slaves, left to wander his house and land unhindered, had faded into secondary concerns. Jesus, Mercy had only left him a minute ago, and he was already bereft.

His resolve had been strong. He had rehearsed his meeting with Mercy repeatedly. But after finding out that she was at the fort, he had felt the luxury of not having to face her for months to come. Her bravery astounded him. Her resilience and determination was why he loved her so damn much. She was one of a kind, and he had let her walk away.

He heard an anguished growl leave his mouth. He hated himself, but even more, he hated the thought of Mercy being tied to him without marriage, a home, children, or a future together. He hated the goddamn Southern pride and honour that raced through his veins. How he had wanted to kiss her, hold her, and promise her that there would be a solution to the stinking troubles that haunted them. He straightened himself and cursed. “You’re a son of a bitch, Stone!”

He swiped the desk with the back of his hand, sending papers to the floor. He punched the wall, making his knuckles bleed. When he came to his senses, he slumped into the chair. He had allowed her to ride out alone to God only knew where. He had been too cowardly to go after her because he couldn’t hide his grief from her for another minute.

He stood up and rushed to the door. He would never live with himself if anything happened to her. She might not pay him any heed, but he had to try to convince her to stay put, at least for tonight.

As he ran from the room, another thought struck him. She also deserved to know the truth from him, before she heard it from the bastards who would kick her to the ground with cruel words and accusations.

He reached the school’s courtyard. George and Tybrook were staring up the street. He followed their eyes and saw Mercy, hat on, head down, and leading her horse with pitifully slow steps.

He ran, ignoring the curious stares from his men, shoving aside soldier after soldier that got in his way. He caught up with her just as she turned the corner that led out of town.

He grabbed her horse’s reins. She looked up at him, startled. The tears he had seen in the schoolhouse still coursed down her face. “Mercy, stop, please. You can’t. Your horse needs to rest.” He cursed himself again. That was not what he’d wanted to say at all. “If you’re mind is set on leaving, at least hear me out first – please.”

Mercy sat on a flat rock just outside of town and watched Jacob wrap her horse’s reins around a tree branch. She put her head between her knees in an attempt to curb the nausea and dizziness that had come over her. She had refused food, yet she was starving. She had also refused to stay a night in the boarding house, yet she was terrified of taking off in the darkness with no idea of where she wanted to go. Another sob left her mouth. She wiped the tears, begging them to stop but unable to do anything about them except release them as quietly as she could.

She had never prayed, not really, she thought just then. She had said “Please God, help me” many times, but she had never actually spoken to God. She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes.
Dear Lord in heaven, I know you have to listen to lots of people every minute of every day – but I would be grateful if you could just give me a minute of your time. Please tell Jacob to change his mind about us. Make him see that we are meant to be together no matter what – and please, if it be your will, make me stop wanting to free slaves. I am so tired, God. I ask you to give me peace and the strength to face what’s to come.

She looked up. Jacob walked out from the shadow of a tree towards her. She had no idea why she had allowed him to bring her here. She had not seen or heard anything to suggest he’d reconsidered, yet here she sat, praying and hoping that he had come to his senses.

“May I sit beside you?” he asked.

Mercy nodded but kept her face averted from his gaze.

He stared at her with unflinching eyes. Her face was red and swollen. Her hair was wild, blowing in the wind. She was shivering with cold. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. He gently cupped her face and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.

“Mercy, look at you. You’re freezing.”

“No matter. Why did you follow me?” She sniffed and jerked her face out of his grasp. She couldn’t stand to look at him anymore.

He handed her a handkerchief and sighed loudly. “I couldn’t allow you to leave with my words ringing in your ears. They were cruel. They were what I thought you should hear. God forgive me, but I only wanted to spare you from the truth. You have to believe that.” His words were muddled. He didn’t know where to begin. “Help me, Mercy – help me to finish this properly.”

Mercy laughed scornfully. “Help you, you say. You don’t need my help. You said what you said quite nicely, all by yourself. You shouldn’t have followed me.”

“You’re wrong. I should not have let you leave the schoolhouse on your own. I beg you – please stay the night in Yorktown.”

“No.”

Jacob shook his head. “Then at least allow me to tell you the truth before you leave? Lord knows you deserve that.”

“What truth do you speak of? Is it the one where you tell me we are not suited? Or the one where our beliefs are at odds? You don’t know the truth, Jacob. If you did, you would not be here now.”

Jacob took off his hat and brushed his fingers through his hair. He took her limp hand in his. “Might I hold your hand, just for a moment?”

She nodded.

“Darling, we cannot be together, but not for the reasons I gave you,” he said, stroking her fingers. “You were correct in thinking I lied to you. I do love you – of course I do - I love you so very much.”

“Then why … why do you not want me?”

“Believe me, not wanting you has nothing to with this,” he told her. “I wanted you the minute I saw you in Liverpool. I still want you – more, if that’s possible – but the truth is, I’m not willing to ruin your life, and it will be ruined if you stay with me. We’ve been defeated, my love, not because of politics or separations, or you running all over the damn state trying to save people, but because circumstances have made a decent life between us an impossible dream. It seems fate has conspired against us.”

“You talk in riddles. Have you forgotten Newport News? You told me you would always love me and that nothing would divide us. What is this really about – the truth?”

“It’s about du Pont – and Elizabeth.”

Mercy moaned. “Oh no. Has Elizabeth been hurt?”

“No, Elizabeth is alive and well, physically anyway. Madame du Pont is dead.” Jacob stopped there. He had to take this slowly, one shocking piece of news at a time.

“Madame du Pont is dead?”

Jacob nodded and tightened his grip on her hand. “She is.”

              Mercy’s breathing quickened. She searched his face. He was telling the truth. She had heard his words correctly. Madame du Pont was dead. She would never threaten or harm her again.

“Mercy, please say something,” Jacob said.

Her small face, blotchy from crying, had paled. Jacob put his arm around her shoulder. She was shivering again. “Speak to me, darling,” he urged her.

“She’s dead. She’s gone - May God forgive me, but this is the only cheery news I have heard all day. I feel relieved. I’m free of her. How did she die?”

“Elizabeth stabbed her … My wife killed her.”

Mercy’s sharp intake of breath was followed by a soft groan of pity, but it also held resentment. “I thought it would be me. It was my job to finish Madame du Pont and live with the knowledge of it. Now I’ll never get to know what it feels like to have ended her life. I wanted to kill her. I should have stuck the knife in her – me! Not Elizabeth.”

“You can’t think like that. You’ve killed, but you’re not a cold blooded murderer – and neither is Elizabeth,” he said, sharply. “Mercy, listen to me. I was at the house in Richmond. I saw du Pont’s dead body, and I saw Elizabeth, mad with the shock of it all. I spoke to her. She didn’t know me. She doesn’t remember du Pont’s death.”

“She doesn’t remember killing?”

Jacob shook his head. “Not a thing about it.”

“Oh, the poor woman. She must have been terrified. She doesn’t deserve this; no one does.”

“There’s more. She’s been arrested for murder. She’s in jail – and they will hang her if the judge thinks for a second that she is aware of her crime.”

Mercy covered her face with her hands. For the moment, her feelings for Jacob would have to take second place to this terrible news. She was beginning to understand why he felt the need to banish her, and more importantly, what this would mean as far as his divorce was concerned. She did not agree with his decision, but she was beginning to accept his reasoning.

“I can’t seem to put my thoughts into words. I know du Pont is dead. I know you must be at your wit’s end – but I can’t understand why the marshal in Richmond wants to hang Elizabeth. He should pin a medal on her.”

“No one wants to hang a woman, Mercy – no one – but the marshal didn’t know du Pont. As far as he’s concerned, two women had a fight and one killed the other. That’s murder, no matter how you look at it. Elizabeth was used in du Pont’s sick, twisted war against me.”

“It seems to me that du Pont got her victory, even in death,” Mercy spat.

“You might be right. The way I see it, either Elizabeth gets her wits back and hangs or she remains in a Richmond jail for God knows how long.”

Mercy uttered a defeated sigh. It was over. She would complicate Jacob’s life even more if she begged him not to end their love affair – that’s what it was, she admitted to herself. He was a married man, and now he would remain married, all because of a cruel twist of fate.

“It seems we are not destined to be together after all,” she sobbed. “You have to go to her. You have to be with your wife.”

There was little comfort in knowing that Jacob loved her, yet she felt a small measure of consolation, for where love still existed, so did hope. The burning desire for another was not easily extinguished. She knew this by her own experience. She was defeated today, but it didn’t mean that all would be lost tomorrow. Fate might yield another twist and turn in her path, leading her home to Jacob.

“When will you leave Yorktown?” she asked.

“I’m leaving for Richmond in the morning. I’ve been transferred to central command until this is sorted out, one way or another. Du Pont’s murder has been reported in all the newspapers. The Confederate government wants this story to go away. I believe there will be a speedy outcome.”

“Do the doctors think Elizabeth will recover?”

“I believe they do. I received a telegram yesterday from her father. He informed me that Elizabeth is already showing signs of improvement. The marshal gave the order to have her transferred to the jailhouse, which means he thinks her fit to stand trial. Darling, believe me: I have looked at this from every angle. I have considered every possible outcome, and not one ends well for us. There is no running away from this. We could hide together on the other side of the world. We could live together as man and wife but that would be a lie. Elizabeth would haunt us both until any happiness we might hope for is ripped to shreds. Darling Mercy, should I desert her now, knowing that I am partly responsible for her situation?”

“No, you have to stand by her.”

Jacob nodded, utterly defeated. “I will always love you. I’ve made terrible mistakes and I will live with regrets for the rest of my life. Knowing that you might be content somewhere with a man who can give you everything I cannot will make my loss bearable – this is the only thing I can hope for now.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Mercy softened her stance after hearing Jacob’s news. She would remain in Yorktown until the morning. To leave now in darkness would be nothing more than prideful stupidity. Anyway, she thought, she was exhausted and far too sad to take herself off into a new unknown.

Mercy’s back rested against Jacob’s chest as they rode her horse back into Yorktown. His arms were wrapped protectively around her waist. They rode in silence and the horse moved as slowly as a sloth in the half mile back to the centre of town, as though sensing the despair and reluctance of the riders.

Mercy wished the mile would multiply by a thousand. Arriving at the boarding house would herald the end of her and Jacob. It would bring to an abrupt halt to her dreams for a future with him, in a world already bound in the fog of war. She had no tears left to cry or words to say. The fear of losing him had been so strong that she had gone back on her word and had implored Jacob to rethink his decision. She had begged him to allow her the choice of remaining by his side, but she had no argument to sway him and no more words to ease his guilt.

He had asked her to imagine a scene whereby she sat in a house alone in Portsmouth, hated, shunned, and with no hope for marriage or children. He would come to her once or maybe twice a week, always in secret, carrying blame on his shoulders like a heavy sack of responsibility. It would eventually become a burden too heavy to abide, he’d told her.

She caressed his bare forearms, unable to deny herself this one last moment of tenderness between them. She was just as much at fault in all of this as he, she thought. It was unfair that he carry this responsibility alone. She was glad Madame du Pont was dead, happy that the cruel, murdering bitch had died at the end of a blade. She deserved more than the death she’d been given – torture and suffering in agony for days would have been more fitting for the likes of her. That’s how she felt about du Pont. She had brought du Pont onto Elizabeth’s path, but Elizabeth should not have been the one to wield the knife and take du Pont’s life. No, she thought again, that should have been her job.

After securing a room, Jacob emerged from the boarding house with a serious and thoughtful expression. They led the horse down the street to the blacksmith. It would be fed, watered, and stabled, the blacksmith assured her. As they walked back to the boarding house, Jacob linked his fingers in hers. Mercy thought it ironic. She and Jacob had just been robbed of a lifetime of conversations, yet she could find nothing to say at this moment.

They stopped in front of the boarding house door. Jacob searched her eyes. “I don’t know how to do this – I don’t know how to say goodbye to you,” he said.

She felt her eyes fill with tears yet again. “Please don’t say goodbye,” she pleaded.

“I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t,” she blurted out. “Will you stay with me tonight? Can we have a few more hours together?”

Jacob’s eyes brightened. He caressed her cheek with his hand and nodded. “Thank you.” His words caught in his throat, making his next words a soft whisper. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, as long as you promise not to say goodbye to me in the morning. When you leave me, kiss me and tell me you’ll see me soon – and believe it when you say it. I won’t let Madame du Pont take all hope from us. She’s stolen everything else. I hate her! Lina believed in fate and destiny, and I do too. God brought us together, and only he can tear us apart, not du Pont – so there must be no talk of farewells or any nasty business, do you hear me? I’m going to stop crying now, and you will not see another single tear from me this night. This must be our night, no one else’s. Promise me.”

“I promise,” he answered.

Mercy lay enfolded in Jacob’s arms. It was black outside. She could see no stars or moon, just a world of darkness. She was covered in it. It was seeping through her skin into her heart, emptying it of joy. She had been staring out of the window for what seemed like hours, searching for answers and trying to imagine a better future than the one that lay ahead. 

Fleeting thoughts converged in her mind, but one in their midst was now gaining her full attention. An interesting notion, it was transforming into a coherent idea. Du Pont had wanted to destroy Jacob and, in doing so, destroy Mercy. Should she, Mercy, do nothing to help Jacob now? Could she allow the old cow a victory to accompany her bones in the grave? No, Mercy decided. That was unacceptable, and she was having none of it.

              Jacob would be awake soon. She would kiss him, tell him that she loved him, and wish him luck. He would leave immediately for Richmond, but he had asked her to remain awhile longer. Jacob’s colonel had been kind enough to order three of his men to escort her all the way to the Confederate secondary defensive line on Warwick Road. Jacob was not happy about her going anywhere, of course, but last night it had been decided that she would go back to Norfolk.

She gazed lovingly into his face and then gently drew her finger across his lips. She snuggled closer to him and felt her skin burn with desire. She kissed his mouth, parting his lips with her tongue. Jacob stirred, clearly hungry for her even as he roused from sleep. He opened his eyes and in one swift movement rolled her onto her back. He arched his back and looked down at her face. “Mercy …Oh my, Mercy. I love you, my darling,” he said.